For a lifetime, the intellect toyed with me
on the path to the Beloved,
trying to convince me that I was in love
with Your face.
But how can I even speak of Your sun-like love
when I am but a shadow
caressed by the dancing flame
of Your candle.
My imaginary existence was like the ripples
on the water’s surface,
a pattern erased by waves
of the ocean of love.
I have taken refuge in God
from both reality and appearance
so that He might cure
my self-existence.
Once He saw that I have no need
for this world and the hereafter,
He ravished my heart and soul
with His coquettish spell.
On my journey towards Him,
I trampled upon both worlds:
on seeing me charge ahead fearlessly,
He finally took my hand.
How can I set out on the hajj
intending to see You
when the heart itself is my Kaaba,
not some stone in Arabia?
I have told you about Nurbakhsh
and the ups and downs of love’s path
so you will know that God alone
has been the reason for my triumph.